The Fake Psychic and the Real Time Lord
by EatingCrushedIce
Summary: When Shawn sees an unusual murder, he jumps to the natural conclusion-an alien did it. But with the help of a mysterious new friend, he begins to wonder if his theory holds more truth than he originally thought.
1. Prolouge

**I've been thinking about this for a while, and I've finally gotten the first few chapters written. So, here it goes. (Set sometime before season 7 of Psych -before Juliet finds out Shawn isn't psychic- and mid-series 3-ish of Doctor Who-companion Martha Jones)**

 **And please excuse any typing errors you see. I recently hurt my wrist and am writing with a splint on.**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Psych. I also do not own Doctor Who. That is also unfortunate.**

Seven-year old Shawn Spencer burst into his house, along with his best friend, Burton Guster.

"Dad! Dad! We saw an alien!"

"What?" Henry walked into the room, still in his uniform. "Shawn, aliens aren't real."

"But we saw it!"

"Actually we heard it first." Gus corrected. "You see, Mr. Spencer—"

"We were playing outside and we heard a weird noise, like…."

"Like if Darth Vader inhaled helium," Gus said slowly.

"Exactly! And, Dad, when we looked, we saw a Port-a-Potty appear!"

"And a man walked out of it!"

"With a girl!"

"Okay, calm down you two." Henry sounded only slightly exasperated. "Where did you see this magic Port-a-Potty?"

"Down the street! By the old Melborne house!"

Henry sighed. "Where they're doing construction?"

"Yeah!"

"Shawn, Gus did either of you actually _see_ the Port-a-Potty appear out of thin air?"

"Well…"

"Not exactly. But it just appeared. I mean, come on, Dad, one second it's not there, then it is. And there was that noise!"

"That was probably just the truck delivering the toilet. Aliens don't exist."

"Then why did two people leave it?" Shawn asked accusingly.

"Yeah," Gus pondered. "It would be uncomfortable for two people to be in a tiny place like that."

"What would they even be doing in there?"

"Quite frankly, I don't want to know. That's their business. But aliens aren't real, okay?"

"Yes, Dad." Shawn hung his head, disappointed.

 **Okay, so that really wasn't plot-heavy, just Little Shawn and Little Gus seeing the TARDIS for the first time. (And I know it doens't resemble a Port-a-Potty all that much, but for two young American kids seeing it from a distance, it kinda does.)**

 **So, what did you think? The more reviews I get, the quicker I'll upload! Reviews inspire! (And I really haven't written all that much recently. I could really use the constructive criticism.) And if you have any ideas you'd like to see, tell me! I might incorporate them!**


	2. Chapter 1

**So, I can't sleep, and I have this all written up, so...enjoy.**

 **Well, here it is. Chapter 1!**

 **Disclaimer: No, I do not own Psych or Doctor Who. Thanks for bringing it up, though. *pouts***

Shawn Spencer was in his office, doing research in the hopes of finding a new case. Well, Gus was doing research. Shawn was trying to get the top score in Slitherio, a new computer game he recently discovered.

"Shawn, are you going to help me or not?" Gus snapped, having realized Shawn was not, in fact researching a new case.

"Of course I'll help, Gus. Just as soon as I eat this little snakey thing—dang it!" he cried, seeing his snake dissolve before his very eyes. "Oh, Pineapple Express, you were a good little snake-worm. You just couldn't make it. In my eyes, you'll always be…one of the greats."

"Are you done now, Shawn? Some of us have real jobs to do."

"Gus, don't be a newborn puppy nibbling a carrot. This game is quite informative and educational."

"That game is just you being a snake trying not to get eaten by other snakes. Chief Vick hasn't called in over a month. Aren't you even a little bit concerned?"

"I try to live in the moment. And at the moment, Pineapple Express the Second is trying to evade Hitler…" Shawn looked up. "Do they monitor these names?"

" _Shawn"_

Shawn was saved by the ringing of the phone. He quickly picked it up.

"Hello? Oh, Chief Vick, so good to hear from you." He looked at Gus, and mouthed "suck it."

" _You_ suck it!"

"Oh, a case?" Shawn ignored Gus. "At the museum? We'll be right there." He hung up the phone.

"I call shotgun!"

"We're the only two people!"

"It never hurts to stay in practice for emergency shotgun-calling moments."

"Whatever, Shawn. C'mon."

*cue epic Doctor Who/Psych theme song mashup*

"Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed. "What have we got?"

Detective Carlton Lassiter gestured at the corpse, a young woman with pale skin and dark hair, her eyes burned out of her sockets, bits of dried blood around her mouth. Shawn also immediately noticed dried blood around her fingernails and inside her ears.

Gus gagged.

"Meet Anna Graystone, age 28, museum tour guide, single, parents deceased, one sister, Nicole, lives in Canada." Lassiter stated.

"Dude, Anna has seen better days." Shawn muttered to Gus.

"Obviously! The girl is dead, Shawn!" Gus whisper-shouted.

"Her eyes, though. Look at them."

"I'd rather not, Shawn."

"But look, they aren't just burned out. It looks like they melted. Whoever did this must have used some kind of poison that not only causes disgustingly bloody mouths, but eye melting-ness as well. What does that?"

"Nothing, Shawn! There is no poison that I can think of that causes your eyes to melt!"

"I AM GETTING A VISION! ANNA GRAYSTONE…was murdered."

"Yeah, Shawn. We've already figured that out." Juliet sounded only moderately exasperated.

"By…an alien."

"Oh, come off it, Spencer. You tried the alien theory before, remember?" Lassiter said. "If you're going to waste our time, at least be original about it."

"This alien," Shawn continued, ignoring Lassiter completely. "climbed _inside_ our victim, and turned her insides into bloodied Jell-O pudding."

"There _is_ an unusual amount of blood surrounding her orifices..." Lassiter noted.

"It's disgusting that you would even notice that about a corpse. You should be looking around her eyes, ears, mouth, and wherever else your head would have a hole."

"Let's get this body to the morgue. Maybe Woody can tell us more."

Suddenly, Lassiter's phone began to ring.

"Detective Carlton Lassiter….yes, Chief. We can be there in about ten minutes…Do they have to come along?...Fine." He hung up and looked at his group. "There's been reports of screams over by the pier. It could be another victim. Come on."

 **Well? I promise, the Doctor will appear in the next chapter.**

 **Reviews feed the soul. The soul writes the chapters.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Okay, so here ya go! Chapter 2! Where you (along with our favorite psychic) meet the Doctor!**

 **Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em. Still wish I did.**

With a weird groaning, wheezing noise, a strange blue box mysteriously appeared on the beach. One of the doors opened, and a young woman wearing a tan jacket ran out, but stopped quickly, blocking the way out.

"Oi, Doctor!" she called out. "This doesn't look like Lexistorn to me!"

"No?" A tall man wearing a trench coat pushed her gently out of the way and stepped outside. "Ah, no. We're still on Earth. Twenty-first century…" He crouched down and rubbed some sand between his fingers. "United States of America…" He tasted the remaining sand on his fingers. "Santa Barbara, California. Ooh, I _love_ California. Well, I say love. For America, it's not bad."

The woman looked at the Doctor. "Still not Lexistorn."

"No, but there's a beach. And look!" He pointed away from the beach, towards a row of buildings. "Shops! You like shops, right?" He grinned somewhat nervously, noting the woman did not look happy. "I'm sure I've got some American currency somewhere…" He felt in various pockets, noting one had a hole. He'd have to get that fixed. Ah, there it was." Here you go! Now, um, you can go over to a shop and…ahh...do shoppy…stuff."

"Seriously? You _want_ me to wander off?" The woman grinned, amused.

"Just for a little bit. The TARDIS isn't feeling well, and I want to stay here for a little bit and make sure she's okay."

"Do you want me to stay with? Keep you company?"

"Nahhh. You go and have fun. I'll be there in a moment or two." A loud crashing noise emitted from the TARDIS and smoke started pouring out the open door. "Or five…"

"All right. But if you need me.."

"Martha Jones, I promise I will call the moment I need you."

With a grin, the woman dashed off.

"Now, let's see what's wrong with you, huh?" Just as the Doctor was about to enter, he heard a loud scream.

He ran off, paused, ran back to the TARDIS, shut the door, and ran back toward the sound of the screams.

Near the docks, he saw a young blond woman lying on the ground, blood seeping out the corners of her eyes and mouth. The Doctor raced toward her and gently raised her up.

"What's wrong. What are you?"

"Too…strong. Help." The woman moaned weakly.

"Who are you? Let me help."

"It burns. It's burning so much…"

"Yes, yes, I know. Please, tell me your name." the Doctor begged.

"I-I can't…won't work."

"Please, your _name_."

"Hurts…so…much…"

" _Please_ what are you?!"

With a blinding blue light, the woman let out a final shriek, and went limp in the Doctor's arms, her eyes now a bloodied mush, blood dripping out her ears and mouth as well.

"No, no, no, no, no!" The Doctor, tears dripping down his face, gently laid the girl down on the sand. "Let—let's see what was in you, alright?" Reaching into his coat pocket—

"SBPD! Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em!"

 **Well, it looks like the Doctor is about to meet our very own Santa Barbara Police Department.**

 **Reviews help the Doctor! (Well, they encourage me to write faster, and since he's in a bit of trouble...) And I'd love to know where you're at with the story. Good, bad, the worst fanfiction you've ever read? It can be as little as 'Good story' or 'You should give up writing forever.' Seriously, just take a few seconds to type out a review...please...**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello! This chapter is from the Psych viewpoint, so the Doctor is not named until he names himself. But we have some nice Lassie/Doctor conversation. And this one is a bit longer than my others, so be warned.**

 **And a huge thank you to MysteryGirl7Freak for reviewing!**

 **Disclaimer: If I owned either of these, I would have some money. I have no money, so I do not own.**

As they approached the pier, the first thing they noticed was a tall man hovering over a body.

"SBPD! Freeze! Hands where I can see 'em!" Lassie shouted as he raced out of the car, gun pointed towards the man.

The man slowly pulled his hand out of his pocket, and raised it, along with his left hand, into the air. "I was just…" he trailed off, looking at the body, covered in dried blood, then back up to Lassie and the rest of the group as they caught up. "Okay, I can see how this looks bad, but I do have a reasonable explanation! I'm—" He reached into his coat pocket, and felt the hole. _Oh, no. It must be in the TARDIS._ "Apparently, I have a hole in my pocket. If you'll just let me go, I can fetch some ID that I'm sure will clear things up." He smiled, somewhat unconvincingly.

"Like I'm letting you go, you psycho." Lassie snapped handcuffs on the man, and led him towards the car.

"I'm not psycho! Well, not completely psycho."

"Says the man wearing a trenchcoat in Santa Barbara in the middle of the summer!" Gus retorted.

"And you're wearing _sneakers_ with a suit." Lassie snarled.

"Guys! Can we please not critique the fashion choices of a possible murder?" Juliet asked.

"It really depends on what he's wearing." Gus responded.

Juliet stopped and glared.

"Ahem, I mean, of course we can not critique."

Juliet smiled.

"I can clear this all up. You see, I'm—"

"Save it for the interrogation, Dick Van Dyke." Lassiter snarled, shoving the man into the car.

"Oi! Dick van Dyke?! That's a bit harsh, now."

...

At the station, Lassiter was in the interrogation room with the man. The strange man seemed quite comfortable for a man who was being questioned for murder, leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head.

"Let's start small, shall we?" Lassiter grinned briefly, then returned to his glare. "Name."

"Can't I have a snack first? I'm a bit peckish."

" _No,_ give me your name."

"All right, I'm the Doctor. Now, can I have a banana?"

"God, it's like interrogating Spencer. You're doctor what, exactly?"

"Just the Doctor."

"Mm-hm. Is that some kind of code name? Are you in a gang?"

"What? No! I did join a polka band once, though. I was on accordion."

"Ugh."

"Don't like polka?"

"No, it's the armpit of the music industry…no, rap is. Polka is more like the…I'm interrogating you!"

"Not doing a very good job, are you?" The Doctor grinned.

"Listen here, buddy. I'll try this one more time. What. Is. Your. _Name?_ "

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor _Who?!_ " Lassie slammed his hands down on the table and glared at the Doctor, inches away from his face.

"I _knew_ you'd get there! Oh, I love it when they say that. Can I have my phone call now?"

Lassiter looked ready to strangle the Doctor, so it was a good thing Juliet entered the room, holding a manila folder. It was less of a good thing that she was followed by Shawn and Gus.

"I've got a witness statement from the second murder. Lady saw _him_ —" she pointed to the doctor "talking to the victim before she died."

"What did you say to her, you sick, sick man?"

"I was trying to see what was killing her!" The Doctor insisted. "You see, I am Doctor John Smith, a detective in London. I was on holiday with my friend when I—Martha!"

"Well, _Doctor_ ," Lassie sneered. "You got any ID to back up that outlandish story of yours?"

"I dropped it! If you'd let me go back…" He trailed off, noticing that wouldn't work. He tried a different tactic. "My friend can fetch it! If you'll let me call my friend…!"

"Martha. Right."

"Really! I need to call her!"

"You are in the middle of an interrogation."

"Which I can clear up with my ID!"

"I am questioning you!"

"You can't be doing a very good job." Shawn said. "Didn't even have his name until we showed up."

"Or have any kind of story." Gus added.

"Oh, I like them." The Doctor said. "Can't they interrogate me instead?"

"Ooh, can we? I've always wanted to interrogate a weird British guy."

"Since when, Shawn?"

"Since I saw the fourth _Harry Potter_ movie, Gus. The scene where they questioned the fake Moody was very emotional."

"I hear that." Gus and Shawn fist bumped.

"Will you two knock it off?" Lassie snapped.

"Carlton's right." Juliet said. "Besides, the fourth movie was mediocre at best. Moody didn't even look right."

"Not to mention the lack of Winky." Lassie grumbled.

Everyone stared at him.

"What? That house-elf played a very important part in the fourth and fifth books. I did like that Barty Crouch Junior character, though."

"You liked that psychopath?" Gus asked incredulously.

"He wasn't that bad." The Doctor interrupted. "And—"

"Zip it, Doc." Lassie snapped. "O'Hara, please escort our suspect to make a phone call while I look over this report."

"Of course, Carlton. Come on, Doctor."

The Doctor peered over Lassiter's shoulder as he got up. "Can I see that?"

"No!" Everyone in the room shouted.

Pouting slightly, the Doctor exited the room, led by Juliet.

...

"So, I can't help but notice the differences in personalities in your team." The Doctor said as he was being led to the phone. "The two blokes than came in with you—not very detective-y, are they?"

"I'll have you know Shawn is the best psychic detective this force has ever seen." Juliet responded as they reached a payphone-type phone. "You get one call. Make it count."

"Of course, Miss O'Hara." The Doctor flashed Juliet a grin as he dialed.

"Hello?" Came a very confused sounding voice over the phone.

"Martha!" The Doctor exclaimed happily.

"Doctor? Is that you?"

"Yes. Now listen very carefully. I need you to bring me—"he glanced over at Juliet, who was watching him closely. "My, um, ID. I'm currently at the Santa Barbara Police Department—"

"Did you seriously get yourself arrested? We haven't even been here two hours!"

"What can I say, I don't like wasting time. But Martha, I found a body."

"Doctor, please tell me they didn't—"

"Yes."

" _Doctor"_

"Martha, the body," he lowered his voice. "The body was definitely our area."

"What? You think an alien…"

"Yes. And I need you bring me my _ID_ immediately so we can investigate I won't be prime suspect!"

"Wait…you don't have your psychic paper?"

"No! It must have fallen out of my coat pocket!"

"I told you to lose the trench coat."

"Never!"

"Where's the paper?"

"It's in the TARDIS." He noted Juliet looking strangely at him. "That's what we named our…rental car." He told her. "Please hurry, Martha."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course, I'll be right there. Just…try not to get in any more trouble before I get there."

"Oh, you know me, Martha. I avoid trouble like the plague."

 **I thought this would be a nice little stopping point. Don't worry, the Doctor and Shawn will be back next week. Reviews would be very nice. Any kind of criticism would be welcome, as I really have no idea how this is being received. Nice or even not-so-nice reviews are welcome. Oh, and my 18th birthday is next week, so I'm not totally sure when I'll update. I promise it'll be soon, though.**


	5. Chapter 4

**It may be a bit late, but here it is! (And in case you were wondering, I had a _fantastic_ birthday. My parents got my series 1-9 of Doctor Who! So, hopefully, I can make sure Martha's in character from now on. I've been having a bit of trouble with her. Anyway, enough rambling.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Psych or Doctor Who. I do, however, own the ringtones of both shows' theme songs.**

Ten minutes later, once again in the interrogation room, with a very frustrated Lassiter still getting nowhere, the group heard a knock on the door.

"Guys?" Buzz McNabb opened the door cautiously. "I've got a girl here who says she needs to see the Doctor."

"McNabb, do you have any idea how unprofessional this is?" Lassie snapped, extremely frustrated at the lack of response he had been getting from trying to talk with the Doctor, made only worse one Shawn and Gus had decided to join in with their own questions, mostly concerning fish and chips, and why the British called "fries," "chips."

"Doctor!" A pretty dark-skinned woman pushed around McNabb. "I've got your ID!"

"Brilliant!" Before anyone could stop him, the Doctor ran up and snatched a piece of folded leather. "I knew I could count on you Martha!" He unfolded it and held it up to Lassiter. "See?"

"Detective Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard? _And_ an M16 agent?" Lassie read. "Is this legit?" He snatched it from the Doctor, and seemed unsatisfied by whatever he deduced from his impromptu inspection.

Shawn laughed. "You feeling okay, Lassie. 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's blank. Nice though, British Guy."

"Um, Shawn?" Gus muttered. "That paper is definitely not blank. I'm pretty sure it has a recommendation from the Queen."

"Yeah, Shawn, it's definitely legit. And not blank." Juliet added, having grabbed the paper and inspected it.

"No, there's nothing on it." Shawn insisted.

"You really can't see anything?" The Doctor asked, intrigued.

Shawn looked around the room, noting just how everyone looked at the paper. If they really couldn't see anything, they were doing a really good job of pretending. So Shawn faked a laugh.

"Of course I can see it, Doc. I was just…you know…messing with you."

The Doctor nodded but seemed unconvinced.

"Doctor, how can he...?" Martha trailed off, looking at Shawn curiously. "I mean, he's no Shakespeare."

"Why would I want to be some old guy with no hair?" Shawn asked. "Speaking of, your hair is _very_ impressive, my British _mate._ The British say 'mate,' right?"

"Yep." The Doctor popped his 'p.' "And my I add, your hair is quite nice yourself."

"Oh, stop." Shawn waved his hand, chuckling slightly. "Just because I have been gifted with both psychic abilities and a head full of rich, thick hair, doesn't mean I want it brought up all the time."

"Then why do you always bring it up?" Gus asked. "And your hair is not that great. I'd give it a six out of ten, tops."

"Oh, come on, Gus. It's at least a nine."

"I'd say seven, maybe seven-point-five." The Doctor put in.

Shawn seemed to accept this, and inspected the Doctor. He noted the sand still in the Doctor's fingernails, the darkened circles barely noticeable under his eyes, and moved to Martha, where he noticed a faint bruise on her wrist and the way she held herself, like she was prepared to run or fight at the drop of a hat. He also noticed how the Doctor subtly placed himself slightly in front of her, as if to protect her from some unforeseen danger.

Shawn placed his fingers to his temple. "I'm sensing you and your friend aren't from around here. That you travel a lot."

"What was your first clue, Spencer? The accents?" Lassie rolled his eyes and snatched the ID from Juliet.

"I'm also sensing you two have seen your fair share of danger. That you have fought a lot... and lost some good people recently, who you were close to..."he was planning on going into detail, but the raw pain behind the Doctor's eyes made him hesitate. "But..." he noticed the excitement behind Martha's eyes. "You love it. You wouldn't trade it for the world."

"Your 'abilities' are even sadder than usual Spencer. Obviously these agents have fought a lot of dirtbags." Lassiter looked at the paper one more time, and reluctantly handed it back to the Doctor. "So, what? You and Scotland Yard gonna take this over? Something of international importance?" Surprisingly, his voice had only a hint of sarcasm.

"As a matter of fact, I do need control over the situation. We've seen a few of these back in England. A couple of dukes, maybe a duchess or two. I think my friend and I have this covered. Although…" he thought for a moment, then apparently made a decision. "I could use a psychic."

"No! No way does Spencer get to work on this and I don't. No way!" Lassiter fumed.

Shawn half-raised his hand. "Do we get diplomatic immunity?"

"No."

"Then we accept."

"We?"

"Every consulting psychic needs a lovely cocoa-colored companion."

"A companion! Perfect!" The Doctor grinned again, and with a dramatic flourish of his trenchcoat, turned and exited the room, followed by Martha Jones, Shawn Spencer, and Burton Guster.

 **Well, we're off! Shawn, Gus, Martha, and the Doctor are on the case! What do think?**

 **Reviews feed my idea-panda. He's rapidly running out of ideas and steam, so he'd appreciate a nice snack.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello, lovelies! I am so, so sorry about the wait. Here's a super-long chapter as an apology.**

 **Disclaimer: I know, you know, that I don't own Psych. Run, you clever boy, and remember, that I also don't own Doctor Who.**

"So, who are you really?" Shawn asked as soon as they left the building.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor asked innocently. "I'm just your regular—"

"Nope."

"What do you mean, 'Nope?'"

"I mean, 'nope.' Don't buy it. No way are you, my trenchcoat-ed and besneaker-ed British pal, are you regular or average in any way. I mean, you obviously have connections, and some kind of heroic complex, but what else?"

"Complex?" the Doctor sounded offended.

"Oh come on. The spirits are telling me—"

"Nope."

"Excuse me?"

"What? If I can't lie, neither can you. And you are most certainly not psychic."

"Yeah I am."

"Nope. And really, it will save us time if you drop this silly charade when it's just the four of us. This is very important."

"Guys!" Juliet called from the top of the steps. "Woody just finished with the autopsy. You might wanna see this."

...

"Welcome!" Woody exclaimed to the large group, consisting not only of the four on the case, but Lassie and Juliet as well. "It's always nice to see new people interested in cadavers."

"They're investigating. And busy." Lassie said, still upset over being excluded.

"Of course." Woody nodded. "Would you care for a cheese cracker before we begin?" He offered a plate filled with dainty little cheese slices over round crackers.

Shawn and the Doctor immediately grabbed a cracker, and after a slight hesitation, Gus selected one too.

"Seriously?" Martha asked the Doctor, grinning.

"What?"

"There is a corpse in the room."

"It's not like the food was _on_ the corpse….It wasn't on the corpse, was it?"

"Of course not." Woody set the snack plate down and pulled the sheet down from the face of the corpse.

"This is Brenda Lively, our second victim."

"She doesn't seem very lively to me." Shawn's quip was met with silence and stares. "Carry on."

"As you can tell from the blood in her ears, it appears she suffered from major cerebral hemorrhaging before she died. However, her brain, along with her internal organs, seems to have…melted. I mean, it is soup in there. Reddish soup with little hunks of intestines and stomach, with a hint of liver—"

Gus gagged. "We get it, Woody."

"Really?" The Doctor asked, intrigued. "Just like that? Intestine stew?"

"Much closer to a soup, actually. You see, stews tend to be thicker, with more meat, usually in larger hunks. Her organs were almost completely liquefied, save for a few bits of tissue here and there."

"What about her bones?"

"That's what's really weird. With all this damage to the organs, you'd think her skeletal system would look similar, right? Wrong! Muscles, bones, tendons—all completely intact! And in decent shape. Brenda must have worked out."

"Huh." The Doctor eyed Juliet and Lassiter. "Would you mind leaving for a few? I have a few tests I need to run myself."

"Certainly." Woody agreed. "I need to check on my pet parakeet anyway. She has the measles."

"Spencer, Gus? You two can stay."

"Are you sure?" Martha asked.

"If we're going to work together, they need to know as much as we do."

"That's right!" Lassie exclaimed. "We need to stick together."

"This is just getting sad, Carlton." Juliet sighed and escorted Lassiter out of the room.

As soon as the Doctor was sure they were gone, he took a small metallic object out of his pocket and pointed it at the corpse. A buzzing sound came from it the end emitted a blue light.

"Um, what is that?" Gus asked.

"My sonic screwdriver."

"Right." Gus smiled and leaned toward Shawn. "Shawn, the dude has a magic wand."

"Gus, that is obviously not a wand. Wands are more stick-like, and have unicorn blood in them."

"No, they have unicorn hair in them. Unicorn blood is what Voldemort drinks in book one!"

"Technically, Professor Quirrell drank the unicorn blood." Martha spoke up.

"You read _Harry Potter_?" Gus asked, impressed.

"And seen all the movies."

Gus grinned. "Did you hear about Pluto? That's messed up, right?"

"Dude, seriously? Doc is scanning a corpse with goo for eyes right in front of you, with his sonic looks-nothing-like-a screwdriver, and you're flirting?"

"Shut up, Shawn. She reads, and she's obviously adventurous, and she's British."

"You know I can still hear you."

"A-HA!" The Doctor straightened up and looked at the screwdriver. "I'm seventy-eight percent sure I know what we're dealing with!"

"What?" Martha asked.

"Keh-Sha."

"The singer?" Gus asked.

"Don't be daft. The Keh-Sha are an alien species with no corpeal body. On Gystehlia, their home planet, they generally inhabit living non-entities, closer to plants that people, though they do resemble humans to a degree. My guess is that a group crash-landed here and attempted to inhabit Miss Lively, and got so scared they burned her up from the inside, liquefying her internal organs. You see, the Keh-Sha are powered by emotion. The stronger the feeling, the stronger they burn. They were frightened when they entered the body, causing her to be even more frightened then one normally would, which in turn scared the Keh-Sha even _more_ , causing a chain reaction until—"

"Organ soup." Martha finished.

"Um, yeah. Just one question?" Shawn half raised his hand. "What planet are you from?"

"Gallifrey. Anything else? Because we need to find the Keh-Sha and take them home before anyone else dies."

"You're an alien." Gus stated.

"Yup."

"And she's…?"

"Human, and she _can_ hear you!" Martha snapped. "I just travel with him."

"Through space."

"And time" Shawn added helpfully.

"How did you know that?" the Doctor asked. "And please hold the psychic bit."

"Fine. If you must know, it was your hair. There is some residue in it that coincides with early English architecture."

"Really?"

" _No._ Between the alien thing and the Shakespeare talk, I guessed."

Gus then cut in. "I'm sorry, but I've had my fill of crazy for the day. If the three of you want to play alien, go ahead. I'll be at home, enjoying a delicous bowl of Lucky Charms."

"Gus, c'mon. _Aliens."_

"No, Shawn. Crazy. And I don't feel like baby-sitting all three of you. I'm out."

"You can't be out. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. It only happens once in your life. I mean, its right there in the name."

"Shawn, aliens do not exist. And if they did, they would look like little green men or nasty worm-things that hatch from your stomach, not like a British guy in a trenchcoat!"

"Then explain the sonic hand-dryer."

"Screwdriver! It's a sonic _screwdriver!"_ The Doctor interjected.

"Who would make a sonic screwdriver?" Shawn asked. "I mean, you have all this futuristic technology at your fingertips, and you build a sonic screwdriver? Why not a sonic handgun? Or toaster?"

"I don't like weap-did you say toaster?"

"Yes. You could have perfectly toasted toast, any time you wanted...provided you have the bread."

"Hmm" The Doctor studied his screwdriver as Gus quietly began making his way to the door. "I suppose I could add a new setting...Martha, what do you think about using the sonic to make breakfast?"

"That thing?". Martha laughed. "Sorry Doctor, I'd rather–"

"Gus!" Shawn cried, grabbing him before he assed him. "C'mon, man. Aliens! It'll be like when we were kids!"

"What? And saw a port-a-potty?"

"That may or may not have contained extra-terrestrial life forms."

"It didn't."

"I'm bored with this now.". The Doctor decided. He grabbed a stethescope from a nearby table and crossed over to Gus, popping the ear pieces in Gus's ears, ignoring his objections, and placing the third end on his own chest. "Listen.". After a moment, he moved the stethescope over slightly.

Gus's eyes widened. "Shawn." He said, eyes never leaving the Doctor's. "The man has two hearts."

"Seriously?" Shawn asked. The Doctor nodded. "Cool! I want two hearts! Gus, c'mere. And, uh, hold still for about, two hours." Shawn picked up a scalpel. "I'm not gonna lie, this may sting a little" Shawn deadpanned.

"Shawn, get that thing away from me!" Gus hid behind the Doctor as Shawn attempted to poke Gus with the scalpel.

"Come on! You'll barely feel a thing!"

"That scalpel cut into a dead chick Shawn! I am not having you touch me with that thing!"

"Are you two always like this?" The Doctor interrupted.

"Pretty much!" Shawn yelled, still trying to attack Gus.

"And you mananged to trick everyone into believing you're a psychic for how many years?"

"I _am_ a psychic!"

"About eight years!"

"Gus!" Shawn stopped going after Gus and put the scalpel down. "Why would you do that?"

"So you might put down that stupid scalpel. And it worked!"

"You're the one who's all 'Oh, Shawn, make sure to keep pretending to be psychic, I don't want to end up in jail' and you tell?!" Shawn exclaimed, doing a rather poor impression of Gus, in fact sounding more like Henry Spencer.

"First off, I do not sound like that! Secondly, if we do end up in jail because of this, I will sell you out faster that a concert ticket to a Coldplay concert. Third, the guy's an alien. I'm pretty sure he's good with secrets."

Shawn paused. "Who listens to Coldplay anymore?"

"I do Shawn. It's catchy and good workout music."

"Since when do you work out?"

Gus glanced at Martha, who was watching them with an amused expression. "I work out all the time."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do, Shawn. You don't know everything about me. I worked out just this morning. I took a jog through the hiking trail in the woods."

Shawn gave Gus a quick once-over. "Then how come the only bit of dirt in your shoes is sand from the beach? "

"I wore jogging shoes Shawn."

"Like those are a thing. Besides, on the extremely rare occasions you do go jogging, you make one of those disgusting health smoothies in the blender. The blender was devoid of any smoothie-ness, both good and disgusting."

"…I washed it."

"If you had, you would have noticed I replaced the dish soap with blueberry syrup. You did NOT work out today, and you are lying about it, which is kinda pathetic."

"I could have worked out."

"C'mon son."

"Anybody want to go after the aliens?" the Doctor asked.

"Wait…you put syrup in the dish soap."

"Of course not."

"Good."

"That would imply some soap remains. I _replaced_ the soap with syrup."

"Seriously? Nice, bright aliens outside, just waiting to be tracked down."

"Why?" Gus asked Shawn.

"I was bored, and you were at your boring job."

"What's his job?" Martha asked.

"He sells drugs."

"Ignore him. I am a pharmaceutical representative."

"You sell drugs."

"I do not just 'sell drugs' Shawn. I make deals with large offices and convince doctors to use our high-quality products."

"Close enough."

"Martha, aliens?" The Doctor tried.

"This is kind of amusing."

"Fine!" Gus gave up. "Let's go. Do you have a car?" he asked the Doctor.

"My, uh, transport is kind of…incapacitated at the moment."

"Fine, I'll drive."

"Shotgun!" Shawn and the Doctor yelled at the same time.

"Seriously?" Martha and Gus asked their respective friends.

"What? I want to sit in the front." The Doctor responded.

"You can't call shotgun until you see the car." Gus pointed out.

Shawn and the Doctor looked at each other, and broke out into a run, both racing to get to the car.

Martha and Gus looked at each other, grinning.

"Is your friend always like this?" Martha asked.

"Sometimes he's worse. Yours?"

"As far as I can tell, he's either a child or this powerful, strong hero. Almost no in-between. And now I find out he's got a twin. How is Shawn when he's serious?"

Gus's smile dimmed. "I've only seen him serious a few times. It's never good."

Martha nodded. "Right, well, they're probably about to destroy your car. Shall we play referee?"

Gus smiled. "We'd better." He offered Martha his arm. "To the Blueberry?"

Martha laughed and slipped her arm in Gus's. "Yours is blue, too then?"

"Yup."

With that, they walked out of the morgue and to the car, where a pseudo-psychic and a nine-hundred year old alien were arguing over who called shotgun first.

 **Again, so sorry about the wait. First, I had to finalize a bunch of college stuff, then internet problems. I'll do my best to make sure chapters are updated faster from now on.**

 **And I promise, I have nothing against Lassiter. I just feel he would be very put out to be left out of such an important case, especially when Shawn and Gus are being given free range.**

 **Oh, and I'm considering adding a dash of Supernatural to this. How would you guys feel about the Winchesters crashing the party? (The sooner I know, the sooner I can update)**

 **Thank you for bearing with me. Hope to see you soon!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Hello, lovelies! I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, (uni's been crazy) but here's a fun little chapter to tide you over until the plot bunnies return. I know it's not very long, and not exactly plot-heavy, but I haven't written anything in a long time, and this was pretty fun to do.**

"I still don't see why I had to ride in the back. It was /quite/ clear I called shotgun first." The Doctor grumbled.  
"No way, Doc Hollywood, _I_ called shotgun first, so I _should_ be the one in the front." Shawn said, sitting beside the Doctor.

"Both of you are acting like children." Gus snapped from the driver's seat. "So since neither of you could agree who got to sit in the front, neither of you get to."

"That is completely unfair, Gus. I'm your best friend!"

"Who is acting like a child! Which is why Martha is sitting up here!"

…"Did you just call me 'Doc Hollywood?" The Doctor asked, turning to Shawn.

"Yes, I did. Would you prefer Doc Brown? Ohh! Yes, you're Doc Brown."

"Ah…just 'Doctor' will do nicely…"

Gus lets out a small laugh from the driver's seat. "You know, this is kind of fun when it isn't happening to me."

Martha turns to him, grinning, "Does he do that often?"

"Plenty. I won't even go in to everything he's called me."

"Funny, the Doctor usually sticks to 'John Smith,' or something unmemorable like that."

"But that's _boring._ " Shawn said. "What's the point of a nickname if it's so…dull?"

"Because it's not supposed to be memorable!" the Doctor snapped. "I can't go 'round the universe very well if I'm so well remembered, can I?"

"It's still boring."

"Well, yes, _thank you,_ Mister Not-Psychic, for your input."

"See, you're getting better! Still, needs improvement…and I could be a very good psychic. I can at least tell when someone's holding a blank piece of paper to my face."

"That…was impressive." the Doctor admitted. "Not many people can see through my psychic paper."

"Wait…you're paper's psychic?!"

"Don't be daft; of course not. It's just…perceptive. It tricks the mind into seeing whatever I want it to."

"That's fantastic. Can I—"

"No."

"But—"

"Definitely no."

"…You're no fun."

"I happen to think I'm quite fun, actually. Just see me at parties."

"…Is that an offer to take us to a space party?"

"No, not—"

"I accept your offer. So does Gus."

"But I wasn't—"

"A space party does seem pretty neat." Gus decided, glancing at Martha.

"… Fine. _One trip._ After we finish with this."

"Deal!" Shawn grinned. "Doc Brown, you are _awesome._ "

"…Can't you just call me the Doctor?"

"…Probably not…I could call you Mr. Peabody, I guess…do you like dogs?"

" …On second thought, Doc Brown isn't that bad."

Gus cautiously pulled up to a dilapidated house. "Uh, are you sure this is the right place, Doctor?"

"Of course I'm sure…enough. I'd say, eighty-five, eighty-six percent sure."

"Right. Let's go find a Ke-Sha, then."

"Uh, Doctor?" Martha turned around, facing him. "What exactly are you planning on doing?"

"Most humans can't handle the Ke-Sha. They panic, and…"

"Organ stew." Shawn supplied.

"Right. But if I let it enter me, I can take it home."

"You're going to let that thing _possess_ you?" Martha asked, alarmed.

"Don't worry, Martha. I'll be in control. It's just a child."

"What if something goes wrong? Doctor, there's no telling—"

"Martha. Do you trust me?"

"You know I do. But this…it's dangerous."

"Nahh…I've been in worse situations."

"That's really not reassuring."

"Martha. Martha Jones. I promise you, I'll be fine. Okay?" He grinned reassuringly at her.

Not completely convinced, Martha gave a small nod, frowning. "Right. Fine. But if something goes wrong, kick it out. Or…or kill it, or something."

"I'm not going to kill it! It's a child!"

"Doctor, just…promise me you'll be safe."

"Come on, Martha, you know me.."

She swallowed. "And that's why I'm worried."

There was a brief moment of silence, then Shawn piped up, starting to get out of the car. "Come on, let's find the alien. Maybe if we're lucky, she'll sing one of her greatest hits." He chuckles to himself. "That's funny, because Ke-Sha sounds like Ke$ha. And Gus loves Ke$ha."

Gus glared at Shawn. "For the last time, Shawn—you know what? Forget it. Let's find the alien." He glanced at Martha. "And maybe after, we can get some sushi to celebrate?"

"I love sushi!" Shawn exclaimed. "The chopsticks are so fun." He began to mime playing with chopsticks, leaving the Blueberry.

"They really are fun." The Doctor agreed, getting out of the car. "Sushi sounds lovely, Mister Guster. Brilliant idea. Alien first, of course."

"No, I…right. Of course." Gus sank into his seat.

Martha grinned at him. "Neither of them can take a hint, can they? Maybe we can do something later—you could show me your office. Pharmaceuticals, right?"

Gus perked up. "Really? You'd want to see my office? Not the Psych office, my office."

"Well, yeah. Sounds interesting."

Gus grinned. "You've got yourself a deal."

 **So? What'd you think? Honestly, any feedback is welcome, and comments really will encourage me to write more. I do have an idea as to where I 'd like to go with this, it'll just take a bit to get there. But I'm still writing, so don't give up! I'll try to do more soon, okay? Pretty please review!**


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